Trelon and his dragon fought to turn themselves over. His left wing was practically useless. It hung limply by his side. The pain was excruciating, but he pushed it down. He staggered as he stood on legs that were bleeding profusely from more than two dozen deep gouges where he had been hit.
His back was on fire. He could feel the blood flooding down it from the deep wound he had received. He had lost too much blood and the blast to his back felt like it might have punctured one of his lungs. He fought to stay on his feet and not pass out, but it was a losing battle. He had no sooner stood up when he felt his back legs collapse under him. He tried to roar out in rage, but he couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs to do so. He couldn’t even get enough breath to breathe dragon fire
